Art or Collaboration

It was a whirlwind day yesterday, double-booked all day, with no lunch, and every client was a bit intense in their own way.  I worked with a new assistant, which just added to the day's feeling it was going to require my rising up to meet the stress level.  Nothing went as planned.  One of my clients was the silver-haired client to that I added a blue accent to her color formula six weeks ago, and her hair came out navy.  This was her second appointment with me.  She offered the things she didn't like first, the bluish tinge in certain lights seems to be the least of her worries.  We got through the list, all of which made sense.  We carried on, and in the process of doing her hair, we had an interesting discussion.  We laughed about how she is quite frank about what works, what doesn't, what she likes, and what she doesn't, about anything.  But her hair for sure. 

She talked about how she made another hairstylist in the salon completely nervous when they attempted to give her a haircut and color, so much so that the stylist's hands shook.  I said, "That must have not been very much fun." 

"Have you ever had a client that just said, afterward, I don't like it, when you are finished, and they can't articulate why?"   She asked. 

And, "It's your fault." is the tone in their voice, yes, of course.  I'd rather know as I'm going if there is something that doesn't feel right to the client.  It's a living, breathing, collaboration in my opinion.  It's like Jazz.  Nobody is wanting to upstand the other, it's more about, how we create what we are offered, i.e., the client's hair, her desires, etc.  Working with hair is my art, but it has to fit the client, and only she can know what that is, and it's much easier for me to hear it as I am working than when I am finished and have to move on to my next client.

The color was much better.  She said she loved it and gave me a hug on the way out.  Even though nothing went as planned, everybody left with hair that looked good, and they seemed happy. 

Beauty School Graduates

The beauty industry turns out thousands of new hairstylists a year from beauty schools all around the world.  And I'm sure you can see the diamonds in the ruff.  Those that handle themselves with enough poise to manage building a clientele, and that can see hair, see where they are going, and most of all, have the courage to continue. Graduating from beauty school is just the beginning.  However, I just attended the San Francisco Institute of Esthetics's and Cosmetology graduation.  And I was inspired by the work these graduates executed on non-professional models.  Color placement and balance were good, the hairstyles were right for the models, and some were adventurous.  These graduates had to put on a runway show, and the hair had to hold up.  The place was packed with people, and employers of top salons were there to spot new talent for their salons.

I was glad I attended.  I felt sort of protective of the new beauty professionals, and touched by their genuine attempt to make the audience proud of their work.  Beauty school is not easy, and being new in the industry is painful.  It's a long haul of making lots of mistakes, learning from them, making little money, and wondering how you can possibly stay with it.  It's hard work, but one of the most fulfilling industries around.  Hairstylists are one of the most satisfied in their work.  But you have to keep challenging yourself to grow, and learn new things.

Thank you graduates for helping me remember where it all started for me, for sharing your creative journey with me with a freshness I hope you never lose.  May you find your own expression through hair, and learn to trust your instincts.

Color Analysis

I attended an evening about image for men and women.  The event is called "A Follow Up."  Anybody who has ever had their colors done by Jennifer Butler, and guests, may take a bag of outfits that they question whether or not they work, and Jennifer will say yeah, or nay.  Watching this process is quite remarkable.  She invited me along to talk about hair, and the changes I would make with the hair of volunteers who were willing to get up on stage.  Jennifer is the queen of color analysis.  I have seen many artists, and she is fabulous at identifying what to accent, finding the feminine within a woman, and the masculine within a man, not to mention what that person's color palette will be, what line designs work best with a particular body type.  This, I'm sure only scratches the surface of Jennifer's repitoire.

Her art seems to consist of her ability to see the essence of a person, and also what quality in that moment does a person want to emphasize, i.e. maybe the client is job hunting, dating, on the board of a women's league, or a high- powered corporate leader.   She seems to operate from a high level of intuition, along with years of training, and a background in fashion. 

She will put together a book for you, that is all about you.  It becomes a valuable resource, whether you are just now dusting of the precious jewel of you, or a veteran fashionista.  Just the few events I have attended, I have seen major transformations occur in people.

The evening was filled with laughter, and ahahs.  I was able to witness not only somebody who is truly gifted, and is living from her essence, but I also saw a generosity that spilled from her to her guests.  Part of the evening consists of the opportunity to let go, and give away the outfits in the bag.  At first, you can see the reluctance of some to let the garments go.  Then, as Jennifer gave the item to somebody else, and seeing how it was so right for that person, people began to see the magic in letting go.  People gave away everything from very expensive, designer clothing, to T shirts and purses.

I think it is a vast body of knowledge that can be helpful to the hairdresser.  Knowing the line designs of clothing, proportions, color, tonal values and how they work with hair, and why is vital information to a hairstylist.  I want to know more for own self-expression, but also in being even more skilled at my craft in helping people manifest their inner beauty on the outside.

I walked away with a confirmed feeling that although color analysis has been around a long time, it will continue to change people's lives as they step into who they really are meant to be.  And, the person who offers the service with as much experience, knowledge, and intuition as Jennifer, is the professional I will see. 

A Salon

Today is the day.  I have gathered some writers for an evening of wine, cheese and crackers, and words, in the salon where I work.  It's happening.  I can't believe it.  I am moved by the amount of support I have in my life, and a lot of that support is from my clients.  How can I thank them?   How can I let them know that without them, I don't know where I would be?  Their love and loyalty has helped to heal a broken soul.  I have come out the other side, resilient, passionate, and a great deal more self-confident. Self-confident enough, that I will share my pages with them, and let them see what goes on this heart of mine.  I will share my short comings, my thoughts about standing behind the chair, my feelings as I am doing so.  I hope for their hearts to be touched by my story, to tap into the universal story.

What compels me to do these things.   I'm not sure.  But I do know it is what I am here to do.  To create a salon has been one of my deepest desires for a very long time.  And to realize my writing life does not have to be seperate from hair, seems the ultimate synthesesis.  I don't have to run from hair to find myself.

Thank you to my loyal partner, friends, clients, coworkers, and SGI community.

Make Up Class

I just returned from LA. My friend and I attended a make up class for hairdressers at Fred Segal. I loved learning a bit more about how to apply make up. What seems so easy, is quite difficult and takes lots of practice. Once again, I was humbled, as the teacher corrected me on the way I was holding the brush, smudging away the make up I just applied, or correcting color choice. It's not as if I don't know how to appy make up, but it felt as if I knew nothing. My fingers fumbled as I brushed under the eyes, as if I had n ever held a brush before. I either brushed on too much contour on the cheeks, or not enough. I glued eyelashes to her forehead, or they fell off onto the lap of my model, or I yanked them off before opening the tweezers. There is really an art and finesse to it all, isn't there?

Seeing how make up can enhance a person's beauty, and not detract, is absolutely amazing. And, it's not as if we have to wear it everyday. But to know how and why, so that you can do it if you want. Education is freedom.

This one model came in, she was 56. She was a classic beauty, but surrounded herself with people who told her she needed to do something to change her looks, even plastic surgery. She was sabotaging herself with her make up...black liner under her eyes, no mascara, dark brown shadow on her lids, blush bright circles mid cheek area. Terrible!

I'm telling you, she was a changed woman. Natural make up made her look not only younger, but gorgeous. The green of her eyes is what you wanted to gaze right into. Her spirit became light, she twinkled as she left the class, wanting to call her boyfriend, and kids.

Layer upon layer, of smoothing, shaping, emphasizing, brightening. "Up and out." Our make up instructor, Rebecca DeHerrera, would say, over and over, and over. Rebecca was fabulous. She is not only a talented working artist, but she knows her stuff, enjoys her work, and is a great teacher.

The two-day class was set up pretty well. We had plenty of models ranging in age, ethnicity, and looks. It could have easily been a three day class. First day, theory and kit introduction. Next two days, models. I think they were free-forming it a bit. My friends kit, which cost $1600. didn't come with what a working make up artist uses. The brushes were not good quality.

The lighting needs an overhaul. It was terrible! Not enough of it, and shadows everywhere. The Fred Segal complex itself is very unattractive, but inside was quite something with high-end retailers, a great luncheon counter, and wonderful art in the salon.

Overall though, I learned plenty! Now, I feel more confident doing make up in the salon. Next, I will pursue make up for editorial. Next, I will pursue make up for editorial. And meanwhile, I can't wait to help others bring out their essence even more, and help them shine.

Barbie

Okay, I've been avoiding telling you this. But admission has to do with beauty, in some twisted way. On Sunday, my daughter had her fifth birthday party. All was well, her three friends, her Nana and Bapa, her nanny, and her two kids, all came to celebrate her day. Her auntie came as well. Well, this auntie had different values and struggles to keep in alignment with her values. Who am I kidding, we all do. But there is a way, she resists my boundaries with my own child. She has been wanting, and lamenting, that I do not want her to take my daughter to a Princess Ice Show. She says in front of the group, something like, "I've been thinking about this, and I think you need to not make this a big deal." Okay. I should mention, that she has a masters in social work.

So, we have the cake, and then the gifts. I have to admit this makes me uncomfortable and feel out of control. We all watched as my daughter, painstakingly so, unwrap her gifts, legs crossed and all. She is not a ripper, she, with care and ease, removes the tape, and so on. You get the picture.

She gets to the bag my sister gave her. It is full of individually wrapped gifts, excess is what she knows. First, there is a four-strand bracelet, chunky in style. Then, a necklace, a jewelry box, a large floral print shirt that cinches in at the waist, with a three-inch-in-diameter sparkling, rhinestone ring, right underneath a bra line, is she had one. For a grand finale, a Barbie.

She unwrapped it, and, of course, she hadn't seen one before, as far as I know. She exclaimed, "Barbie!" like she was a long, lost friend. She wanted to open the box then, and there. I whisked it out of her hand so quickly, and said "Later, we have guests now."

I wanted to cry, die, and pummel my sister. I felt betrayed, and like her actions were passive-aggressive. I couldn't even look at this Barbie. I flung it high up into the closet. The gifts felt like they were for a woman, not a FIVE years old. Not my five-year-old.

I did cry. I talked to clients at work. My grounded older clients said, don't sweat it. Let her have them. There is no harm done. The more you resist, the more your daughter will want them.

My partner said he overheard our daughter playing in her room. She was sitting on the bed, looking at her valentines from school. Of course, there were a few Princess theme valentines. She told them, "You know, my mama doesn't like you."

I laughed, and then I felt sad. I can't get anything by her. She is tuned into me, more than anybody I know.

I came home from work on Monday, pulled the exiled Barbie down out of the closet, and gave it to her. It is disgusting for me to look at, nothing real about her. My daughter is playing with it a bit, she complains that the plastic shoes come off too easily.

This is worth a therapy session I am sure. But for now, Barbie has made her way into my home and I am bereft. and still digesting it all.

Thrills

There is nothing more exciting to me as a hairstylist than to help a woman feel beautiful.  On Saturday, I had a client who wanted to play.  We had determined ahead of time that we would do some hair color, which we hadn't done in a very long time.  We also decided we would take a photo. She had white and gray hair, mixed with 20% of her natural level 5 to 6, with a cool tone.

This was my approach.  I sectioned off the hair with a Pleating section, a type of zigzag section around the parietal. Pleating is from one of Teri Dougherty's collections.  Then, instead of using one color on top, I used a brick laying pattern, with the same size sections.  I used a Majorel, level 4, 20 vol. on the bottom of the zigzag, and 8.13 (1/2), 8 (1/2), 20 vol. on top triangles.

The results were wonderful,  a little more dramatic than her natural look, with a sparkle.  She loved it, and I think she left feeling a bit better about herself.

I'll upload the photo as soon as I figure out how.  

High Heels

I've often wondered why it is people find high heels attractive to women.  It visually seems off balance to me.  It makes women look like they are teetering, distorting their bodies into a forward position.  They certainly can't run.  Although maybe they would just kick them off.  Or, maybe they would be dropped at the curb by their lover, so they wouldn't have to walk.  Not so attractive either. The idea of heels on hairstylists is another idea I haven't been able to wrap my mind around.  So we stand all day, at least four days a week at the least, and wear heels?

 I remember when I first started doing hair 27 years ago, I wore spike heels to work every day.  The older stylists I'm sure thought I was crazy.  They wore cowboy boots.  Oh, yeah those are better for your feet.  There weren't many options for fashionable, comfortable shoes then.

A couple of the stylists at work wear heels every day.  I marvel at how they do it.  They can't walk very fast.  They have beautiful legs, and no apparent varicose veins, unlike my legs, which have squiggles all over the place. 

 Is it cultural?  Both are the second generation from other countries.  Some of it seems like they just don't think it's sexy to not wear them.  I missed that part of the beauty school program, where we needed to dress sexy for work. 

These same stylists tell me that in the large, more prestigious salons, you are expected to wear high heels.  And they are unkind if you don't adhere to the off-kilter, sexist, misogynistic, dress code.  I guess I wouldn't last two minutes in a salon like that. 

Yes, as hairstylists we get to play, and be creative with our dress as our self-expression.  It's fun.  Where I draw the line is when it comes to discomfort and deformity.

These Z Coils are my favorite!   They are an example of my kind of shoe for work.  I'm not saying I don't wear heels, I just don't wear them 24/7 at work, where I stand most of the day. 

Alopecia

I pass up most Google alerts, but this one caught my eye.  A premature bald woman takes her mother into a salon for her 77th birthday to have her hair and nails done.  A situation that would have traumatized her before.  In fact, she gave up going to them, thinking they were places for people with hair, and she didn't belong. I am moved by her courage, and the inner work she must have done on herself to be confident enough to walk into the salon.  A situation that could have turned heads. 

 Although, I like to think of hairstylists being sensitive to all types of people with all sorts of obvious physical differences, it depends on where you go.  Not all salons are friendly, and in fact, are quite full of themselves and give the profession a bad reputation.  Salons can intimidate and make people feel unfomfortable.

As I read Cheryl Carvery's post, I recalled a client I once gave a haircut to, rather, I gave her very expensive wig.  I worked in one chair salon.  It was private, and I know she appreciated the quiet.  She developed alopecia right around sixteen years old.  She too, seemed to have courage and an inner strength that I felt moved by. 

The wig sparkeled with a level 7, a mid-blonde, with honey highlights.  We were about to shampoo, she held the sides to keep it one her head, and it slipped off.  Her pale, bald head exposed, she reached for the wig with a quick hand and put it back on.  The moment seemed longer than most, discomfort made me tighten and want to take care of her.

As I combed and cut, she shared her history.  I felt honored to be with her.  So much wisdom wrapped up in one woman, who I thought was attractive with, or without hair.  We cut a very modern shape into the hair, long strands fell to the floor.  It was then that she decided to tell me that this beautiful wig was $2000.  I trembled at the thought.  One wrong snip could drain my bank account.   What if she didn't like the cut?   The pressure felt heavy on my chest, until I realized I could sink or swim.  My choice.

We dried her hair and she loved it.  I felt I was given a gift of tenderness, a rare opportunity to expereince her vulnerablity, and therefore experience my own.   I had no choice to look at my own discomfort, and own fear at seeing baldness. 

I think the more women like these can enter salons, own their baldness, and allow us into their human condition, the greater the healing.  One act of courage after another frees us all.

Yesterday

Pressure mounts as I try to meet writing deadlines.  My current article seems more difficult to write than others.  Being with clients is a great counter point to writing.  Working with my hands, feeling the hair, studying hairlines, discerning differences between tones in the hair.  My fingers move, as if it's all been mapped out before.  They know just what to do.

Each client is so different.  My last one yesterday is a bit quirky, funny and down to earth.  We laughed about the round brush that felt tortuous to her the first time she sat in my chair.   She kept pulling away, really, as if I was pulling hair right out of her head.   As I was drying her hair yesterday, she said, "Are you sure that is not that brush?" 

I giggled, "No, it's not."  I pulled every brush out of my box, and sure enough, we spotted the bad brush.  Her eyes grew to the size of golf balls, "That's it!"  She shrieked. 

"I knew you would recognize it."  She is a photographer.  In fact, we are going to trade a headshot of myself for the website and my blog (I dislike the current one), for her haircut and color yesterday. 

She said, "Why don't we take a picture of the brush, in different settings."  So, don't be surprised if you see a series of photos posted soon, entitled, "The Hair Brush." 

I was at a party the other night.  It was the birthday of a fellow writer's husband.  Our other fellow writer was there and is currently going through chemo.  She has breast cancer.  She is a lovely woman to talk to, and a talented writer.  With our backs leaned against the wall, she said, "Now that I've lost my hair, I find myself staring at people and imagining what they would look like bald."  Hair is one of the most definitive features on our body, and if we didn't have it, how vulnerable is that?

Balancing Life

I've got a lot of questions today. The balance of writing, working behind the chair, daughter time and partner  time, let alone time for myself is one that is fit for the finest circus.  I mean and I love everything I'm doing.  Is the doing about the doing though?   What would it be like to not do for a change, or are doers always fantasizing about the possibility of not doing?  Is the doing a cover up, for fear nothing will happen?    Some would say, "Get yourself to a therapist, quick."  But I feel done with that for now.

I heard, while traveling in India for six months, years ago, "whatever you are here to do, will be done through you, whether you are consciously working on it or not." 

So does it happen unconsciously?  Is it magic?  Does it happen while I sleep?  A simple guided tour map of our life handed to us as we slipped into the world, would be helpful.  We wouldn't have to know all the details, that would be dull and boring.  But if we knew that we would be doing exactly what we are to do this life, we could relax.  Take a vacation, read a book with our feet up on the sofa, take more walks and breathe in more fresh air, snuggle with our lover, play with our kids.

So, do you think hearing that from the teacher has helped any?  I mean, I'm supposed to know it, right?  But I do what I do, what I think I'm supposed to do, creating my own reality, full of it's limitations, every minute.  Am I running from something, or to something?  If I stop long enough, I can see I am still with me.

How can I stop, when there is so much to do.  So many things in life I have yet to experience.  I want to do hair the rest of my life and do it well, masterfully.  Maybe I don't need to stand behind the chair 4/7.  I want to travel to Baja, with my family and see the whales birth, and visit the Rodin museum in Paris, visit Africa and look into the eyes of a gorilla, and smell the earth, visit my mentor in Japan and see the cherry trees in bloom.  I want to experience having a real conversation with my mother, without her talking over me, I want to meet with teams of highly creative people, talk to them, create together.  I want to finish my book, I want to...the list is long.  How can one stop?

I will continue to do because I have to.  A life not verging on insanity will have to come some other time. 

Humility

I left work the other day feeling as though I had just left beauty school, yes a Rocky like attitude of I can do anything, let me have at those clients.  On the other hand, a train load of inexperience and naivete.  The day did not start well with a relatively new client called because the demi-permanent color we did the other day was a little transparent on the gray hair.  So, I did what I thought I needed to do, have her come back in and retouch the color.  When she came in she suggested we play.  I didn't have the time to play.  So, we decided to tone the fettuccine size pieces with special effect colors, and retouch the level 5 base.  I told her I was a bit concerned that every time I did her hair, it's not quite right it seemed.   "But then it is."

This is the second time I have had to reappoint her because she wasn't happy.  We agreed we refining what she wants her hair to look like.  Her hair looked great when she left.  Candy apple red, mixed with burgundy wine pieces, alternating with 9.3 and 8N, 9% developer.  Pretty.  We will have to drop her base to a level 4 next time.

Then two cancellations in the middle of my day. Fatigue started to work its way into my body.  Then I had another stylists client sit in my chair for the first time, the other hairstylist is out on leave.   Her silver hair, that we weaved with spaghetti size pieces with a level 5N 20 vol., with a hint of blue accent (she said it turned warm every time with a formulation of 5NN), alternating with 6.1 vol.  The result was a navy blue where the 5N, blue accent was placed.  Blue hair, it was beautiful and would have been right for many other clients of mine who love to play.  But, not blue hair, not on this client.  I could see the blue accent oxidizing immediately.   I thought, "It will darken."  And it did, but into a deep navy blue.  My fear is that it will lighten to a shade of pale blue as she shampoos her hair.  I've been doing hair 27 years,this should not have happened, not to this client.  I think I was intimidated about seeing her.  She is the kind of person that finds it hard to let go, who needs to have her fingers in the haircut, and blow-dry her own hair.  I walked away from the chair as she did so. I alerted the other stylists, did I indeed she make the biggest mistake ever?

And to boot, I don't love what her and the other stylist are doing with her hair, so I was doing something I didn't believe looked good even in the best case scenario. It's not easy to see that I compromised my work, my ideas,and my sensibilities. I delicately said, "let's try something different, I think it could look better."  But change is too scary for her, she is much to insecure. Or maybe I am too soft to insist she needs to change.

I wanted to leave the salon.  I wanted to quit doing hair for a moment. I half expected her to call, and I suppose I still do.  Humility comes up and works its way into my life once again. Well, suffice it to say, I think I sabotaged myself.  And that is a difficult thing to look at.

The only saving grace was the primaries.  What an exciting time in history!

Gloria Heads

When I lay in bed the other day, sick with the flu, my five year old daughter brought a stack of books in to read to me.  When she was done with that, she brought in her "Gloria" head.  These are the heads we learned cutting on in beauty school.  She brought brushes, combs, clips and ribbons.  She climbed up and proceeded to give a class.  "You hold the hair like this, take this piece and move it over here.  Put a clip here." etc.  She said, "I amSavanna."   She has watched many Bumble and  Bumble classes at the salon, with Savanna teaching.  She has the mannerisms, language and dexterity of a true teacher.  She is sure of herself and gives clear instruction. 

In my flu stupor, I told her so.  I have to say, I felt better afterwards.

Green, Green, Green

Green, green, green, is all I have on my mind.  So, from my research so far, I can see the hair salons are slow to change. California is ahead of the game in terms of setting up county wide programs which certify green business.  As of yet there are not standards for salons.  However, if you want to pay a private company that will certify, with standards that work for any business-- the practices are generic and work for any business.  I'm thinking why can't this basic list of practices work for the county wide programs that are free? No answers yet.  But I am on a hunt.  We can't keep thinking we have no impact.  The beauty industry has got to take responsibility for the waste we produce, and lessen our use of resources.

I'll keep you posted.

More on the Aging Stylist

Now, I can see the other side.  My post the other day about being an aging stylist, the crone of the salon, and talking about the assistants and young stylists, has led me to this:  these younger additions to the beauty industry who have no fear of tattoos, (a California fetish), or changing their hair as often as they can, and pierce their bodies, will be sixty years old someday as well.  (I wonder what their tattoos will look like)  How they will defy their age?  Sixty will look completely different for them, as it will for me from my mother's generation.  Kudos to them for doing what they please with their look.  For being willing to look different from everybody else, in terms of their hair. I can't tell you how sad it is for me as a hairdresser to see older women, say around fifty years and older, who start restricting themselves, telling themselves they need to look older now.  They don't play anymore,they dress down, then they give up completely, barely changing out of sweat pants. It doesn't have to be this way.

Calling all Green Hairstylists & Hair Salon Owners

Back in the saddle.  It's been a few days.  I get rusty when I don't write.  I've been consumed with with researching for an article I want to write. It's about making Green choices in the beauty industry; hair salons the focus. Last night I was out with another hairstylist/friend, and I realized through talking with her, that I am passionate about this topic.  And, in my research so far, there is not a lot of information available.  In other words, I don't think being Green has really hit hair salons yet. 

So, I have a request.  If any salons, or stylists have decided to go Green, please contact me, and let me know what you are doing in the salon to help the environment. I will be submitting the article to various magazines.

Thanks.

A La Carte

Okay, my post from two days ago, was a bit of a rant.  Just me, trying to find my place in the social order.  It's looking like I'm the crone, the oldest in the bunch.  I can delicately support those younger than I.  I needed support when I was their age.   In our day long, salon pow wow, with the consulting firm went well.  As I suspected, it will take time to implement the changes we would like to make.  It was good to be on neutral territory.  People did feel comfortable enough to bring up issues with the people they have grievances with.  We did the Myers Briggs Test. It helped to identify what kind of people we are individually, and as a group. I being the only introvert, by five points.  But the majority of the folks there have no follow through.  Interesting to note. And they are all extroverts!  So, they feed off the salon being loud and busy.  What is my work here?  Take deep breaths.

I gave a two-hour class the other night at the salon.  I was coming off the flu, and still a mess, looking back.  I pulled my inner resources together and gave the class anyway.  This class had been scheduled for eons though, I needed to follow through.  As it turned out, the other stylist is an extrovert, and loves being the star, so she held center stage most of the time.  We taught what we had learned at Terri Dougherty's class.  And when it came time for the haircut demo, I completely started making up my own haircut. In my flu stupor, I even said, "Forget the diagram, it's wrong."  And I proceeded to give the model the cut, incorrectly.  I felt I couldn't let the model know that.  I let everybody know afterwards.

From that mistake, I learned the correct way to do the haircut.  It's from this year's collection, inspired by food.  This haircut is awesome for curly or straight hair.  It's called A La Carte.  Three sections and your done.  Not for the Sassoon followers.  I'll put up the pictures, soon as I get them.  We had four fabulous models, all very different from each other.  A great time was had by all.  Another humbling experience to add to the list.

An Aging Stylist

I know it's probably not hip to speak of ones age, particularly a woman, but I have styling hair for 27 years, some days I lose count, but things are changing in the industry, and I don't know how I am fairing. I now wear readers, and yes, they hang on the tip of my nose, which ages me, maybe, 20 years.  That makes me 67 years old.  I could probably stand to wear glasses, which would age me still, maybe 10 years, which would make me 57 years old.  But I can't admit it to myself yet, that I may need glasses, or do.

The stylists around me, particularly, the apprentices paint their bodies with tattoos.  I look like plain, square, Jane, because I am tattoo-less, a rarity in California, except maybe if your 57 years old and need glasses.  But even my one client who is in her 70's got her ankle tattooed.

These same apprentices wear the lowest cut blouses and tops, and they are full in figure.  I about died when one of them came with the cell phone tucked right there in her cleavage, and she was sitting at the front desk, which if you stood there, you were right on top of the situation, no where for your eyes to go, but there.

High heels abound in the salon.  Platforms, skinny heels, all shapes and sizes, 3 inches height the minimum.  My varicose veins hurt just looking at them.

The conversation I overhear in the chair feels disingenuous and gives our industry a bad name.  Sexism is still alive and well. Who's fault is it?  The hairstylist who puts up with it, and allows it?  Or the perpetrator?  We all have our part.

We have music days at the salon, which doesn't always work out.  Each stylist gets a couple of days a month to choose what they want to listen to all day.  Hard rock and and some really foul hip-hop is what is played by some. Okay, now I feel I am unpopular, and not very hip.

The sense of entitlement that seems to go along with the music, the tattoos, the cleavage is most unbearable.  Laziness and excuses abound as explanations for what is a fundamental lack of respect for themselves and their jobs, as if to say, "If I fool you, maybe I will fool myself."  They are only fooling themselves.

Do I have their respect?  I don't know, I barely know what to say to them.  I do my work, and am very absorbed when clients sit in my chair.  I know I do need to communicate with them, I'm sure they must have much to teach me, if I would only open to them.  But I am unsympathetic to their stories, so I keep my mouth shut.

I don't think I am fairing well with these changes.  But I love what I do.  I enjoy where I work.  Our salon is better than most.  The change that needs to happen is within myself, clearly, this is where I have control.  Although, I can't remember where to begin.  The change that it would require of me is painstaking, and humbling.

Martin Luther King Jr.

I attended an event in Phoenix last year, on this day.  The cabdriver that picked us up wore a hat, and was a bit chatty.  He was slight and wiry in frame, and maybe 55 years old.  Once we got in the cab, we made small talk about the weather and the fact that it was a holiday.  I don't know why they make such a big deal about this guy (Martin Luther King Jr.), all he ever did was have a dream.  I about fell over. "What?  How you could you say such a thing?  He is one of the great thinkers and leaders of this century, and a tireless crusader for human rights.  He spoke out, and worked hard against injustice of every kind." I wanted to say.

Martin Luther King Jr. said, "Life's most persistent question is, What are you doing for others?"

It can be overwhelming to see the homeless building in numbers under the freeway, and the jobless rate increasing, the richer getting richer.  How can I make a difference in the well of need that exists in the world? Apathy, and a state of denial seem an easier place to go.

Learning to get along with each other is the order for today, seems appropriate on this holiday.  A day, where people can get their concerns heard and work towards change.  The salon is closed.  We will work with a consulting group to try and work out our issues.  I've never worked in a salon where issues were prevalent enough to warrant outside help.   

To get along  seems simple, but I'm a person who avoids conflict usually.   Silence is not always better.  Complacency is worse.   I resist and despise any rah rah work that will inspire change for a day.  Will lasting change be the result?  It's up to each of us.  The one thing I can do is to become part of the solution.  I will make sure my voice is heard today, and speak up for those who can't. 

Thank you Martin for your efforts, and giving your life to a just cause, your efforts were not in vain.

Called In Sick

Late Monday afternoon, while at the salon, in the back of my throat I felt that, you know, that little tickle, and my energy began to drain right out my feet.  I was suspicious, so I took five Immune capsules, which have helped me in the past, avoid all preschool bugs.  I barely ate, and went to bad, only to wake up feeling zonked.  All I could do was sleep, and managed to get one post out, but forget the trillion other things I had to do. Then Wednesday came.  I knew I had a full day at the salon, and just the night before talked it over with the receptionist.  "Yes, I will be there."  You have to know something about me.  My ability to see my situation clearly when it involves my best interest, is not my strong point.  I knew I was flat on my back and would not be able to do my work well, not to mention, be contagious.  It took my daughter yelling out a startling cry as she threw up on herself, for me to say to myself, "You are not going to work today."  And I am glad I came to my senses.

Sure enough, clients were gracious and rescheduled, and the staff at work was helpful.  I'm still dragging today, but will go in tomorrow.  See how I am?  But I've got a full day, and a class to teach in the evening.  I've got to show up, even though, the occasional shiver that runs up my body makes me want to run for the covers.

Would this be considered strong work ethics and loyalty to my clients, or just plain crazy?